


Shelter

by feentanz



Series: One Shots [21]
Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Angst, Comfort/Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 23:09:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21466063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feentanz/pseuds/feentanz
Summary: Usually she would have stopped here, bitten her tongue and reminded herself that she was talking to the king. But tonight she didn’t find it in her to care. “Would you not die for Ravka, Nikolai?” she asked instead. “Would you not sacrifice everything for this country?”His expression was suddenly weary. And tired. “Everything,” he confirmed. “Just not you.”
Relationships: Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky
Series: One Shots [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/594364
Comments: 6
Kudos: 89





	Shelter

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the HogwartsOnline OWLs and the prompt "Getting drunk on Gluhwein"

Zoya looked up when she heard steps outside her tent, stopping in front of the entrance for just a moment. She knew who it was instantly, picked it up on the sound of movement alone.

Seconds later the king’s head peaked inside. “Care to join me?” he asked, already walking through the tent, lifting a bottle of red liquid and two glasses. 

Zoya leaned back in her chair, raising a brow. “We are going to war tomorrow, your Highness,” she remarked. “Not quite the right time for alcohol.” 

Nikolai smirked, but not as careless as usually. He was worried, too, beneath the facade he had put on. She knew him well enough. He sat the glasses down on the table she was working on, sitting down across from her. “Not just  _ any  _ alcohol,” he replied, sounding unusually excited. “Gluhwein.”

She eyed the liquid in the bottle. “Which is what, exactly?” 

“A Kerch speciality. Wine with spices, apparently.” Nikolai was already filling two glasses, and it was only then that she noticed the steam rising into the air. “It’s hot,” he confirmed. 

Zoya had half a heart to ask why he had come, why he had chosen this moment to share a drink with her. But it was freezing and she was cold, and therefore she closed her hands around the wam glass nonetheless. “Let’s hope this is better than absinth,” she muttered. 

Nikolai already took a sip. “The Kerch know their way around liquor.” 

Zoya nipped on her glass. The wine tasted of cinnamon and something else, but not unpleasantly. She shot the king a quick glance, then added a half shrug. “It’s not all that bad.” Nevertheless she could not avoid her mind jumping to the worst possible conclusion. Because they were sitting here, on the verge of battle, the last evening before everything would go to hell. 

“Is the Second Army ready?” Nikolai suddenly said, as if having read her mind. 

Zoya took another sip of Gluhwein. The warmth burned in her throat. “They need to be,” she replied simply. There was no other choice than to march tomorrow. 

Nikolai watched her for a moment. “Tamar told me you took on the right flank for yourself.” 

She had. They had come up with a strategy for now, a strategy which might or might not lead them to victory tomorrow. 

“She also told me what you intended to do next,” Nikolai remarked, nipping on his glass, but his eyes trained on her. There was a sudden edge to his voice. Concern, perhaps, if she allowed herself to think that far. 

Zoya lifted her chin, meeting his gaze. “So?” 

“I’ve never heard that it’s possible to summon both wind and fire.” 

She finished her glass, setting it down on the table. The alcohol was warming her stomach. “It is possible,” she simply replied. “I’ve done it before.” Her fingers instantly moved to the dragon scales on her wrists. The dragon had taught her a few nice tricks. 

Nikolai poured her more wine, perhaps only to avoid looking at her any longer. “Would it change anything if I asked you to reconsider?” he said after a long while. He was leaning forward now, much closer to her. 

Zoya played with a loose strand of wool on her  _ kefta.  _ “No,” she replied, forcing herself to sound cold and determined. The choice had been made. She would take that right flank, drive it right into the enemy’s army, and then she would do her best and summon a storm fueled by inferni fire, large enough to send the world trembling. Because otherwise their army would be slaughtered. 

“Would it change anything if I told you that I need you beside me, running this country with me?” Nikolai raised the glass to his lips, his eyes gleaming in the dim light of the tent. “The Triumvirate needs you.” 

She met his gaze now, and saw the worry, the concern he was trying to hide. He was asking her nicely. This was not an order, because perhaps he knew that she would disobey anyway. “The Second Army needs me,” Zoya said simply. “And Ravka can’t afford to lose this battle.” 

Nikolai took another sip of Gluhwein, as if to drown out those words. “Can the king afford to lose his general?” 

_ He had to.  _ “Get Tamar to do the job,” Zoya replied. She forced herself to sound stern, determined. She would not falter now. Another quick sip, the wine now much too sweet for her liking. She could feel herself growing tipsy already, the alcohol settling in her bloodstream. “Or Adrik, if you want an  _ Etherealki  _ commander.” 

Nikolai almost dropped the glass at those words, instead slamming it down hard on the table. “I won’t just get the next best person and replace you, Zoya,” he hissed at her, and she was surprised to see genuine anger in his eyes. “Stop talking like you’re already dead!” 

She almost rolled her eyes then, but something on his face made her resist the urge. “You brought the topic up, your Highness,” she replied, making her voice bitterly sweet as she downed the rest of her Gluhwein. “Did you only come here to guilt me into changing my mind?” 

“I came here to remind you of your duties to this country,” Nikolai replied sharply. “You are no good to Ravka dead.” 

Her own anger was curling up inside her now, the alcohol having loosened her self restraint. She could feel the storm raging in her blood. “If I don’t do something you will no longer  _ have  _ a country to rule over!” she snapped back. “Fjerda is closing in on us. So are the Shu.”

“There are other ways.” 

She shot him a heated glance. “Really? I’d love to hear about all of them!” Usually she would have stopped here, bitten her tongue and reminded herself that she was talking to the king. But tonight she didn’t find it in her to care. “Would you not die for Ravka, Nikolai?” she asked instead. “Would you not sacrifice everything for this country?” 

His expression was suddenly weary. And tired. “Everything,” he confirmed. “Just not you.” 

The words took a moment to sink in. Zoya stilled, suddenly frozen, feeling a cold feeling of realization settle in.  _ Oh no.  _ She stared at him, searching his face for something she never found. “Nikolai-” she began, but never got any further, because suddenly his lips crashed against hers. 

Zoya found herself responding instantly, her fingers curling up in his hair as his lips moved against hers, pushing her backwards, closing any space which might have remained between them. Zoya’s head was swimming from the wine - or perhaps the sensation of kissing - and she barely got a moment to think before she felt herself being pulled into his arms. 

She couldn’t have said how much time had passed until they got to the bed, Nikolai’s lips now grazing down her jaw, her neck, over her collarbones. She didn’t feel the cold anymore. She didn’t feel anything else at all. Only this. Only  _ him.  _

Neither of them remembered that they were indeed in a tent, in the middle of a war camp, with doom just lurking on the horizon. No, the entire Fjerdan army might have marched in that very moment and Zoya wouldn’t have cared, as long as Nikolai didn’t let go of her. 

A sigh escaped her as his kisses traveled lower, pulling the  _ kefta  _ over her shoulders to reveal the bare skin underneath. Zoya shivered under the touch, her head falling back against the pillow, and for a second she was truly tempted. Tempted to give in to this particular sensation, the one which she was not supposed to indulge in. 

But she was not yet drunk enough for that, and so she suddenly returned to her senses, instantly pulling away. 

Nikolai let go of her immediately, giving her a surprised look before moving to sit up. The first buttons of his shirt were undone and she had made quite the mess of his hair, a few golden curls falling into his face. 

She could barely look at him. Zoya took in a shaky breath, pulling the silk of the  _ kefta  _ back over her shoulders. “We can’t,” she said very quietly, half hoping he might not have heard her.  _ Just not you,  _ the words echoed through her mind. She could still feel his fingertips across her skin, the lingering shadow of his lips, his hands… 

Nikolai sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Do you want me to leave?” 

_ No.  _ Every part of her body was screaming no, but she didn’t get a word out. This was not supposed to happen. She was not supposed to get close to Nikolai, not in this one way. But now she had slipped once, and the could feel herself daring to slip again, only once, only to give in this one last time… 

He shifted closer to her, but still far enough away to keep a safe distance. “Does one night really matter?” he said quietly, daring her to agree, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. “Tomorrow we march to death anyway.” 

_ Not all of them.  _ “Is this what this is about?” she asked, forced herself to speak the words, no matter the pain behind them. Forced herself to sound like she meant it. “One last night because tomorrow I will be dead?” Was this his way of saying goodbye? He had surely never shown interest in her before, simply looked away where other men had swooned. Why tonight? And why act like it meant anything?

Nikolai frowned, blinking in surprise. “No,” he argued. “That’s not what I-” 

“Leave.” She dared to look at him, forcing the uncertainty away from her face. The pain. Because she was refusing to admit that this meant anything to her, could ever mean anything. She was a soldier, and Nikolai was a king. And that was the truth they would both need to live with. 

But Nikolai didn’t move. “Don’t go tomorrow,” he said, much too soft. “I need you by my side.” 

“You’ll have a queen by your side soon enough.” Those words had meant to hurt, and they did, but Zoya hardly felt any satisfaction as she saw Nikolai flinch. 

“I don’t want any queen,” he replied sharply. “I just want-” 

She inhaled sharpy at the words, but he never finished the sentence. Instead Nikolai sighed heavily. Zoya pressed her lips together, trying to keep herself from giving in. From allowing herself to reconsider.

She had always assumed she might die in battle on day, but until now she had never realized that perhaps she was not so fearless when it came to sacrifice after all. For a brief moment she was tempted to ask him to stay. “It’s the only way,” she said instead. “The plan is decided.” Tamar had not been too thrilled about it, but she had known better than to argue. 

Nikolai’s eyes remained on her. “What if I gave you a good enough reason to change your mind?” His gaze had turned challenging. 

Zoya lifted her chin. “Try me, your Highness.” 

“I’m in love with you.” 

Zoya froze, a wave of coldness settling through her like nothing before. She was suddenly craving another bottle of Gluhwein.  _ Why now?  _ After months, after years. Whatever they had found with each other, it had rested on the foundation of neither of them crossing a particular line, of both of them knowing how far they could go. Nikolai had just blown it all up. “You can’t,” she finally got out, her voice shaking against her will. 

He looked almost relieved now, as if speaking the words had eased his mind. “And still I do,” he simply said. 

“Why tell me now?” This was not fair. Even if it was true, she didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to live with this knowledge. Because it would never change anything, anyway. 

“Because it’s true,” Nikolai replied. “And because apparently it might be my last chance to tell you.” 

Zoya took a deep breath, preparing herself for what was to come. For what she would have to do. “You’ve told me then,” she said, forcing her voice to sound harsh. One last time she would be cruel. “Then you can leave now.” 

Nikolai didn’t do as much as blink. “Tell me you don’t feel the same way.” His eyes were gleaming. “Tell me you don’t and I’ll go.” He had seen through it, seen through every mask she had ever put on. She hated that most about this situation. 

Zoya swallowed hard, trying to gather the courage to speak. Those few words, and it would be done. She would break this heart only so he could let her go. But she couldn’t. All that talk about her being ruthless, and yet she failed at a simple cruelty like this. She stared into Nikolai’s eyes and she was lost, all thoughts of getting through this vanished from her mind.  _ I’m in love with you.  _ Was there really some part of her which had hoped to hear those words? 

Nikolai moved, and then suddenly he was right before her, his fingers tracing the lines of her face. The mere touch send Zoya shivering. “Change the plan,” he said quietly, his voice barely more than a faint whisper. His thumb brushed over her cheek. “Please.” 

She was defenseless. Zoya had stilled, looking up at him, completely out of words. “I can’t-” she began, but then his lips were against her throat, his warm breath grazing the skin.  _ Oh Saints.  _

“You can,” Nikolai whispered against her skin, his lips kissing their way downwards. 

Zoya felt her eyes fluttering shut against her will as she leaned into the touch, unable to do anything else. Least of all think. This was bound to drive her mad. 

And then his lips were on hers again, hot and demanding, and Zoya didn’t resist when she felt herself pushed back into the pillows. And yet there was something at the back of her mind, some lingering doubt which remained despite all of it. “Are you only kissing me so I agree?” she muttered as his lips moved along her jaw, hating the way her own voice sounded. Insecurity really didn’t suit her. 

Nikolai stilled for a moment, his eyes finding hers. “No,” he breathed against her lips, almost close enough to touch. “I’m kissing you because it’s all I’ve been thinking about for the past months.” 

“Good,” Zoya remarked, still not quite able to breathe evenly. “Because just kissing won’t be enough to make me agree.” 

A grin spread across his lips then, and for a small moment Zoya almost felt like things might be alright again. Like there was any version of reality in which they could have this - all of this - and not doom their entire country forever. 

And perhaps this was the most selfish thing she had ever done, and perhaps it made her a terrible person, but she had no strength to pull away any longer. 

But tomorrow she would go to war, and tomorrow she would have to look at Nikolai as her king again, and all that happened tonight would be forgotten. Had to be forgotten. So why not indulge in one night of fantasy? Why not pretend for a little while that whatever they had, that it didn’t need to end? 

“I should have told you sooner,” Nikolai whispered into her hair, as if he had read her mind. “We could have had more time.”   
  
Zoya only shook her head, her fingers tracing the lines of his back. No, they never could have had more time. Not with how things were. “I’m not changing my mind,” she said quietly. 

He pressed a kiss to her lips, light as feathers. “I know.” 


End file.
